CHAPTER EIGHT

A gentle knock on the heavy door pulled me out of a light, restless sleep.

"Rise and shine, sunshine."

Marco’s voice echoed from the hallway before he pushed the oak door open. A young staff member followed right behind him, carrying a silver tray stacked with fresh pastries, fruit, and coffee.

I rubbed my dry eyes, sitting up on the edge of the mattress. "Good morning," I yawned, smoothing down my messy hair.

"What’s going on?"

Marco folded his broad arms across his chest, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What’s going on is that if you want to survive what’s coming outside these walls, you need to learn how to defend yourself."

I frowned, looking at him in utter disbelief. "Defend myself?

I’m a medical student, Marco. I hold scalpels, not weapons."

"Well, today is your first day of training," Marco replied smoothly, nodding toward the tray. "Freshen up, eat your breakfast, and someone will lead you down to the training room."

He pointed toward the tall wooden wardrobe near the wall.

"Oh, and there are clothes in there for you."

I blinked in surprise. "You bought clothes for me?"

Marco shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Don’t ask me. The Boss gave the explicit order."

Before I could ask another question, he turned toward the hallway. "See you in thirty minutes. Don't be late."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I walked over to the wardrobe and pulled the double doors open. Inside were neatly folded black athletic clothes and a fresh pair of white training sneakers.

I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "These look like they'll fit perfectly... How do they even know my exact size?"

After forcing myself to swallow a few bites of fruit and coffee, one of the house staff led me down to the estate's lower level.

The gym was massive. Heavy punching bags hung from steel beams, rows of weights lined the polished concrete walls, and a professional boxing ring stood directly in the center. Marco was already in the ring, sparring with a couple of heavily armed guards.

The moment his eyes caught me standing near the entrance, he signaled for them to stop. "That’s enough for today, boys."

The guards nodded respectfully before heading for the exit. Marco turned to me with a wide grin, stepping over the ropes.

"There you are," he said, grabbing a pair of red leather boxing gloves from a shelf and tossing them straight at my chest. "Ready to begin?"

I caught them awkwardly against my stomach. "I guess."

Marco laughed, shaking his head. "That’s not exactly the overwhelming confidence I was hoping for, Julian."

I slipped my hands into the stiff gloves, adjusting the velcro straps. "So... what do I do first?"

Marco stepped directly in front of me on the padded mat and raised his fists. "Let’s see how well you throw a punch."

I drew a breath and threw my first awkward right hook. He dodged it without moving an inch.

"Too slow," Marco critiqued.

I tried again, throwing a jab.

"Keep your guard up. Protect your chin."

I tried a third time, throwing my weight forward.

"No, don't lean pivot your back foot into it."

After twenty minutes of continuous striking, my shoulders felt like they were filled with wet cement, my lungs burning with every breath.

"Oh my God," I groaned, letting my arms drop to my sides. "This is impossible. My arms feel like lead."

Marco shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Already throwing in the towel after a few weak punches?"

He took a step closer. "Come on, Jules. I know you’ve got more fight in you than that."

I wiped a streak of sweat off my forehead with the back of my glove and raised my fists back up. "I'm starting to hate you, Marco."

Marco laughed heartily. "No, you don't."

Without warning, he threw a light jab toward my shoulder. I yelped, trying to duck out of the way, but my clumsy footwork tangled up. I lost my balance entirely and hit the padded mat with a heavy, humiliating thud.

"Ouch!" I hissed, rubbing my hip.

Marco burst into laughter. "You call that falling? I’ve seen newborn calves drop with more grace than that."

"Oh, shut up," I muttered, glaring up at him as he stretched a large hand out to help me. I shoved his hand away. "I can get up on my own."

"Stubborn."

"Very."

I pushed myself back onto my feet, brushing off my dark workout clothes.

"Again?" Marco asked, raising his hands.

I let out a long, heavy sigh. "Again."

For the next hour, I punched, blocked, slipped, and fell to the floor more times than I could keep track of. By the time Marco finally called a pause, I was completely drenched in sweat, gasping for air.

"I think... my arms are physically broken," I panted, hands resting on my knees.

Marco chuckled. "They’re fine. They’re just working muscles you've never used in a medical lecture before."

"I don't think I’ll be able to hold a spoon during dinner," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"You’ll thank me one day, kid."

"I severely doubt that."

Unbeknownst to either of us, Lorenzo stood quietly on the dark glass balcony overlooking the gym floor. His piercing gray eyes tracked Julian’s every move from above.

The boy wasn't strong. He had no combat experience, no instincts, and no speed. But every single time Marco knocked him down to the mat... Julian forced himself back up onto his feet.

That quiet, stubborn resilience caught Lorenzo's unblinking attention.

Marco happened to glance up toward the balcony, meeting his boss's gaze. "Boss."

I instinctively turned around to look at who Marco was addressing, but by the time my eyes reached the glass balcony... Lorenzo had already stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

"Was someone up there?" I asked, wiping my face with a towel.

Marco smiled softly to himself. "No one important."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't believe you for a second."

"You don't have to." Marco picked up another set of pads and tossed them toward me. "Enough resting."

I stared at him in pure horror. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"Marco, I am completely exhausted!"

"The rivals coming after you won't care if you're tired, Julian," Marco said, his tone turning dead serious as he raised his hands. "This isn't a game."

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, staring at him. For the first time since I stepped into this gym, I realized Marco wasn't trying to punish or intimidate me.

He was trying to keep me alive.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled my gloves back up and raised my guard once more.